


Quiet Passion

by AnnieGrimmons101



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Authority Figures, Barebacking, Birth Control, Blow Jobs, Canon Era, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating, Established Relationship, F/M, Forehead Kisses, Genderfluid Merlin, Hair-pulling, His Majesty is PACKIN tho, Intersex Merlin, Like a lot of wine, M/M, Masturbation, Nice Uther Pendragon (Merlin), Other, Panic Attacks, Penis In Vagina Sex, Secrets, Uther chill with the sippin, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wine, sickly Merlin, soft Uther :3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24791398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieGrimmons101/pseuds/AnnieGrimmons101
Summary: Merdiin, or Merlin as they're known to most people, has found a place in the King's bed, as their eager youth and ability to shift their genital structure on command excites him. Still, old prejudices linger.
Relationships: Merlin/Uther Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> tags will be added as chapters are completed
> 
> takes place before S2 E10 as ch 4 will be the start of canon divergence based around that ep

Merdiin lay sprawled on her back in the King's bed. The sheets having already been soiled by her master, Merdiin had thrown them off, preferring to be blissfully nude in the safety of the King's chambers rather than wake up sticky and reeking of sex.

They had copulated four times in one night, His Majesty displaying impressive libido for a man his age, but he chose to return to work rather than join Merdiin in bed. He sat on his low couch by the fireside, a cup of wine in his right hand and an important document in his left. Merdiin, despite not being exactly the King's favourite person during the day, was highly enjoyable to His Majesty once the sun slipped behind the horizon.

He knew her real name— Merlin being sort of an anglicization of her name, Merdiin, which meant 'flowing waters' in her native tongue. She didn't mind being known as Merlin, but Merdiin greatly appreciated the elder King for respecting her heritage in private. King Uther also knew Merdiin's ability to 'shift' from day to day. They hadn't discussed it. Surely eventually the King would ask her outright if this ability was the product of sorcery, and as she wouldn't have a definitive no, it would at least mark the end of their relationship, if not her life.

"Merdiin."

His parchment was placed on the side table as Uther stood and advanced towards the left side of the bed. It would have been left vacant, being that it was Uther's side of the bed, except that he had fucked Merdiin into specifically that portion of the mattress twice already and she hadn't felt like moving.

There was a fire in his grey-green eyes. Merdiin spread her legs and cupped her pink lady parts.

"I am going to have you again."

He was so calm when he spoke, the words holding arousal that was carefully contained. It was arousing to Merdiin in a way she couldn't quite describe.

He didn't slide his cock from beneath his nightshirt, so Merdiin sat up a bit, allowing her breasts to wobble with the movement. "Do you want to bugger me?"

"You have a pleasure spot there, do you not?"

Merdiin nodded, dragging her arm across one of her breasts to draw His Majesty's attention to its round form. He reached out and caressed her tits, then, as she had hoped he would do, and gently tweaked a nipple.

"How do you want me, sire?"

The King didn't speak, just held out a hand to guide Merdiin down off the bed. He turned her and bent her over the edge, her arse then at just the right height for him. She wriggled about a little until she was comfortable.

"Are you wet?"

It was another thing they didn't discuss, that Merdiin could make herself wet from both holes. They would eventually. Probably far sooner than she would be ready for.

"For you, yes, always," Merdiin whispered, sultry and eager, as she felt the slick start to dribble out of both her entrances.

His Royal Highness still worked her with his fingers until he was confident he'd fit. He was thick, too thick for most girls Merdiin's age, and he knew to be careful with Merdiin even when she didn't always want him to be.

The head of his fat cock tapped against her hole before gliding inside. Merdiin was incredibly slick, and it was only the second thrust before Uther was fully seated inside of her. One hand took her by the waist while the other caressed up and down Merdiin's bare back.

They built up a rhythm, his cock dragging over the prostate that stayed when she shifted, Merdiin desperately meeting his thrusts as she chased her own climax. Uther inserted two fingers into her pussy, startling her enough to let out a squeak, and he crooked them to her other spot to ensure a speedy and smooth finish.

She came with a cry, pulsating around her master, who continued to fuck deep into her hole until he had satisfied his needs.  
For the fifth time that night, he kissed Merdiin's sweaty skin and whispered, "Thank you."

As he returned to his work, cum slowly leaked back out of Merdiin's loose arse. Knowing the King was watching her still, she shifted her hips and spread her legs wider, allowing the trickle to run down her thigh. She heard his breath hitch, and listened for the unmistakable sound of a man pleasuring himself. So lubricated he was with Merdiin's slick and his own cum, Uther jerking his cock was the loudest sound in the room.

His libido was beyond impressive and bordering on desperate. Merdiin stayed long nights with him whence he simply could never receive enough attention to be sated. He would finally drift off to sleep in the wee hours of the morning.

He was back at her side in half a breath, snapping straight inside her loosened cunt and lifting her off the bed by her quivering legs to pound inside her reddened cunny. Uther had fucked her so many times that he was practically rubbing her raw.

Again he spilt inside her.

"Thank you."

His voice was starting to shake, just barely, a hint of his age peeking through his battle-hardened exterior. Merdiin lifted herself up and turned to face him, placing her hands on his chest.

"Is it too much?" she asked him, not for the first time. He shook his head, but wrapped one of her hands with his own and squeezed.

There was another report to read. Merdiin took the time to wipe herself clean with a cold washing-cloth, although she didn't go much farther than the exterior since she knew her King wasn't yet finished with her.

Merdiin joined him by the couch, sitting at his feet and leaning against his good knee, a silent and willing companion. He tousled his hand through her dark curls in thanks. As the report drew to a close, Merdiin had grown drowsy and elected not to move from her place unless Uther attempted to carry her. Strong as he was, his knee couldn't take the strain.

"Mm," the King sighed, taking a long sip of wine. "I might need a minute." Merdiin kissed the King's knee, it being the only thing she could reach.

"I wish time would permit me to have you during the day," His Majesty fantasized to himself, as if he didn't already have enough sex. "I can think of so many places..."

Merdiin smiled against the King's leg. "You're making my pussy all wet," she flirted cooly, running a finger up His Majesty's sculpted calf.

"You're insatiable," huffed Uther, sitting up straighter and giving Merdiin's hair a sharp tug.

It sent a spark straight to Merdiin's pink, gaping hole.

"You like that, don't you, girl?"

"Yeah..."

"Come up here," he ordered, slapping his thigh. She obediently climbed up onto his lap, at first attempting to straddle him, but Uther turned her and pressed her back against his chest, running his hands possessively along her breasts and belly. He liked to imagine getting her pregnant, even though she would always take a draught to remain otherwise, so he gently cupped the tiny pouch of her belly like it held something precious.

Perhaps he really wanted it to. Perhaps he was really trying for a baby. They had never discussed contraceptive measures. Surely, a King wouldn't want a bastard?

"You're taking medicine."

"Yes," Merdiin agreed, her mind in one place while his was in another.

He wrapped both his arms around her and spoke into her hair. "Those tablets. What are they? I've never seen Gaius prescribe such a thing."

Oh. "They're, um... for my legs."

"What's wrong with your legs?" Uther wrapped a hand around one of her thighs and squeezed.

"Nothing. Long as I take medicine."

The King audibly frowned as he said, "You were a sickly child, then?"

"Still am."

He shook his head, likely trying to distance himself from how young Merdiin was. "And the tablets, they cure you?"

It was Merdiin's turn to shake her head. "They make my bones stronger, ease the pain a little." She leaned her head back on Uther's broad shoulder and sighed contentedly. "Course, being pampered helps too," Merdiin smirked, reaching a hand between their legs and finding Uther's fat cock. She stroked it until her King started to regain his southerly bloodflow.

"And if you didn't take them?" he asked, sounding almost unaffected by Merdiin's fingers on his slit. Almost.

She shrugged a little as she sped up her hand. "I've got braces. But they're heavy. And I get real dizzy without my medicine." The King's breathing became laboured, and he slapped her hand away from his nethers, putting a hand to hers instead.

"If pampering will make you well, then it's pampering you'll receive," he purred, finding her clit and playing with her.

"You're too good to me," Merdiin insisted, but the King shushed her.

He nosed at the soft skin behind her ear. "You've earned this. You have served your King well."

As Merdiin cummed under her master's ministrations, he began to kiss lightly along her neck and shoulder, breath puffing warmth over her nude body. She shivered, even though it would never be cold in the King's chambers.

She lay back against Uther, panting, for a long moment. He seemed content to simply smooth his hands along her body, not pressing her to pleasure him before she was ready. The King was so much more considerate of her than Merdiin had ever thought possible.

"I want to suck you," she asked suddenly. His hands hesitated for the barest second before returning to cup her breasts.

"You're eager. I admire that in a woman." His Majesty took another moment to drink in her essence with his mouth and hands. "Alright. I think I have one more in me." He allowed Merdiin to slip from his grasp and kneel on the floor between his legs. His Majesty held his cock up to Merdiin's lips with one hand and tugged on her curls with the other.

Merdiin suckled the tip of her master's length, tasting the evidence of their time together and twirling her tongue around his foreskin teasingly, before bobbing her head in shallow thrusts, easing Uther's cock deeper into her throat with each pull. With each pass from root to tip, the King's grip on her hair became tighter and tighter, until she went lax and allowed him to control the movements of her head. He was gentle, but desperate still. As he neared his finish, based on the tremble of his thighs under Merdiin's blunt nails, he pummeled much faster and shallower, seeming to hold onto Merdiin's hair for dear life.

Hot, bitter release blossomed in Merdiin's mouth, causing her to choke and sputter and make a mess of the rug under her knees. There'd be a new rug in its place by the next time she visited; one of the perks of sleeping with a rich man.

Uther petted her hair, wiping her face with a handkerchief and lifting her chin to look at him. He was flushed, eyes shining, clearly exhausted but having worked hard to get there. He looked alive. Merdiin couldn't help but beam up at her King, proud that she could have such an effect on someone as world-weary as him.

He leant and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Thank you, Merdiin," he breathed. "You may go."

Merdiin stumbled back into her cold clothes and let herself out through the servant entrance, careful to shift back into a boy in case she ran into anybody that had seen her other nethers. Because, so far, Uther was the only one to see her pussy. It was a secret only a King could keep.


	2. Chapter 2

The morning frost on the grass was replaced by sweet dew before Merdiin was able to get the King alone again. As much as he wanted the King all to himself, he didn't intend to keep Uther for long, since he had been a boy for the better part of a week and didn't have the energy to shift. They wouldn't have time for a proper buggery--perhaps His Majesty would permit Merdiin to suck him--but Merdiin had grown lonely without the King's presence and any time spent with him would be well-received.

Merdiin had grown thinner over the winter, due to a lack of the sweet fruits and berries he usually used to stave off his hunger. As spring arrived, his slight frame became more obvious as fewer layers were required to keep him warm. And, as few plants were in bloom yet, Merdiin went to bed each night hungrier than the last. There were meals that Gaius prepared, but usually only one per day, and they were measly at that. When it became warm enough for Gaius to send Merdiin out for herbs, Merdiin took the opportunity to dig up anything edible and cram it in his mouth. He subsisted on mostly flatbread and taproots for about a month, along with copious amounts of herbal tea to try and curb his appetite.

The Prince was used to Merdiin being scrawny. He never even considered Merdiin might be hungry. When Gaius was too busy to cook, Merdiin took Arthur's supper dishes away and shamefully gorged himself on the meagre leftovers.

Arthur never caught him. Merdiin wasn't sure if he would even care what Merdiin had to do to survive, but figured he would be displeased to find his servant hunched over in the hallway scraping the last measly crumbs off his dinner plate.

Late one night, starving to the point of a stomachache, Merdiin bundled himself in as many layers as he could scrounge up and crept out to the forest. There was no fruit or berries, but the river held untold amounts of fish, and Merdiin was at the point where he might eat one raw. Merdiin managed to wrangle one small trout just as the sun was hinting at a glow on the horizon. Exhausted as he was, he barely remembered to pocket the fish before stumbling back towards the city walls.

It was a sad breakfast, the taste of meat so very welcome on Merdiin's tongue, but it was more bone than fish. Merdiin again tided himself over with tea, hoping it would keep him awake after a night without a wink of sleep.

Arthur could tell the difference. Merdiin knew he looked terrible even without owning a mirror. It took every ounce of self-control in Merdiin's body to deliver Arthur's breakfast to him without devouring it first. Sausage and cheese never smelled so good. Every bone in his body ached with the cold moisture of early spring. Without food to take his medicine with, Merdiin had begun to feel dazed and confused, almost ditzy, affecting his ability to work, which the Prince really didn't fancy much. Merdiin wanted nothing more than to eat a big meal and curl up for a nap and never wake up.

The medicine was starting to wear off earlier in the day now. Merdiin usually took two tablets per day; one in the morning so he could work and one at night to ease the pain for sleeping, but he had been rationing it to just the morning dosage since he wasn't sleeping much anyhow. His body was starting to show the effects of withdrawal. His fingers trembled and shook, he sweat constantly despite the cold, and his legs grew ever weaker without receiving the supplements they were used to. Merdiin had been slowly losing his eyesight as well. There were constant black spots and sudden periods of almost complete blindness whenever he looked outside. His vision blurred and swam the harder he tried to focus, especially when reading. Of course, it was apparent Merdiin couldn't see where he was going, but the Prince only suggested spectacles with a slightly concerned tone and carried on with his day.

Like Merdiin could ever afford spectacles.

He felt like a mouse, skittering around Arthur's feet, hoping beyond all hope for a crumb or two. Merdiin tried his best to keep his belly full, but hunger continued to gnaw at his insides all the same.

And it was always Uther that reigned victorious, wasn't it?

Merdiin served supper for the royal family for the first time that spring. Upon entry, he could see that Uther's keen eyes had spotted the difference.

As dinner ended and the Prince and ward went off to bed, rather than call the servants to do away with the leftovers, His Majesty bade Merdiin sit with him.

"You look ill. Eat something." Merdiin gorged himself on a feast quite literally fit for a king.

"Your Majesty?"

Uther sat silently in his throne, staring off into the empty hall. He didn't seem particularly thoughtful, possibly just waiting for someone. Merdiin had hardly whispered the first greeting, so he tried again.

"Sire? I--"

He was cut off by a wave of Uther's hand. So he had heard. A moment passed. His Majesty finally spoke. "Come here, boy."

Merdiin advanced, nerves fluttering in his belly. He wasn't sure why the King was being so listless and cold with him, as he couldn't remember doing anything wrong recently, but he imagined there must have been some trespass.

Another long silence stretched between them. Merdiin knelt, mostly to keep his head from spinning. It was getting on to dinnertime and Merdiin's morning pill had more than worn off. He hadn't yet saved up the proper coin to buy the next supply of medicine and was still rationing what he had.

"This ability you have, to change your form, how far can it be taken?"

Merdiin was not put at ease by the question. "Milord?"

The King rapped his knuckles on the arm of his throne. "What are your limitations? Your sexual organs change, and your breasts swell, but is that the extent of your... gifts?"

"Sire..." Merdiin swallowed a little. "I don't, I mean, every now and then something strange will happen, so I don't know... exactly the extent of me, but... for right now all I can force me to do is go from male to female."

"I meant with the rest of you. Could you change your appearance, your height perhaps? Where do these abilities cut off?"

"No," Merdiin clarified quickly. "It's just the bits, um, bit. I can't change my height, or my face or anything."

Uther settled back in his throne, seeming to approve of this answer. Then he asked that one fateful question: "Where do these gifts originate from?"

Merdiin swallowed and shook his dizzy head. "I don't... I don't know, really. I've just... always had it. Since I was a baby."

"So, this isn't some curse or other thing inflicted upon you by, say, a witch?"

"No, sire, I don't think so."

His Majesty hummed. "So this is inherent to you, then."

"Y-yes, sire."

There was a silence between them for a long moment. Then, His Majesty reached out to pet Merdiin's hair. It was a soft and soothing gesture. Merdiin leant into it sadly, closing his eyes against what was surely to come.

"I wish you to be honest with me, Merdiin," the King said gently. "I must know these things before I can allow myself to indulge in you again." Merdiin nodded a little. "Is this talent passed down by one of your parents, to your knowledge?"

"...no, sire. At least, not by my mother. I don't..."

"You have never met your father."

His cheeks flushed red. "No, sire, never. My mother doesn't speak of him. For all I know he may be dead."

There was another silence, another gentle brush of Merdiin's fringe away from his face. The King then asked him, "Would it grieve you, Merdiin, to be disinvited from my bed?"

"Yes, sire, yes, very much."

"Then tell me this little truth. I cannot promise I will not see you differently, but I will not expel you from the castle. No matter the answer."

Merdiin nodded his agreement to the terms, much as they hurt his heart.

"Are you human?"

This question broke him. He fell to Uther's feet and choked out a sob. "No," he uttered, barely above a whisper. There was more he should say, but he could not force the words out, no matter how much he burned by keeping them inside.

"Be at ease, Merdiin," the King said softly. "My word is not easily broken. No harm will come to you."

But Merdiin's heart was already torn. The King would never keep someone who wasn't human. Even if Merdiin wouldn't be beheaded or thrown out on the street, his time as the King's lover was done.


	3. Chapter 3

A week passed. Merdiin kept carefully to herself, staying out of Uther’s way just in case he changed his mind about keeping her secret. So far he had been nothing but kind to her, lenient regarding her tardiness and even being so generous as to increase her wages a touch. She didn’t know why the King was being nice to her, but it did little to soothe her nerves.

Spring was a little closer on the horizon now, such that a few more medicinal herbs were poking up out of the ground, and while there still weren’t any fruits for Merdiin to eat, she found she suddenly didn’t have any problem sustaining herself.

There were presents; every time Merdiin passed by almost anyone in the hallways, someone would be offering her a jar of homemade jam, or a bottle of honey, or a bundle of sweet rolls, and once a fellow servant even slipped her a little bottle of mead. No one ever told Merdiin the reason for these presents, and they seemed rather nonchalant about the idea of gifting things to her, to the extent that Merdiin could tell these weren’t just gifts between friends— not that she knew even half of them, anyway!

Uther was sending her these treats. This much she knew, because Cook would dance in the streets at Merdiin’s demise, and yet Cook also decided to hand Merdiin a lemon tart one day without a word. Merdiin had already fed Arthur and was coming back to help one of the girls do the washing-up, so the treat was clearly meant for her. Only on the King’s orders would Cook ever grant Merdiin even a kind look. But then, why was he so reluctant for Merdiin to know of his involvement? 

Merdiin straightened her nightgown as she walked, escorted by two guards who hadn’t looked at her once even in her state of undress. The summons had come late, close to midnight, so there was little time for Merdiin to do more than pull on her boots before she was being whisked out the door.

Of course, she knew why. It just felt like a pipe dream. Or perhaps this was when the King killed her; in his own rooms, in private, out of respect for what they once had. He wouldn’t kill her without due process, would he? Surely not. It was his right to, as King, yes, but he valued the opinion of the court, right?

By the time Merdiin was pushed through the King’s chamber door she’d worked herself into such a tizzy that she nearly fainted on entry, and not just because she was without her medicine. Her legs were wobbly beyond medical explanation, but the guards each had a hand on her to make certain she wouldn’t be allowed to fall.

There he was. Looking over the rose garden, silent and towering, filling the entire room with his presence. Merdiin’s magic shrivelled into an unhappy lump in her gut. He waved a hand dismissively and the guards hastened towards the exit, leaving the pair of them alone.

Now unsupported, Merdiin sank to her knees and tried to steady herself, dropping her forehead on the cool wood planks of the floor. She tried to breathe, but everything in her head was scrambled like a whisked egg, and she could hardly comprehend why she ever used to enjoy coming here. Of course the King’s chambers should be a place of terror. He was her enemy, wasn’t he?

“No, Merdiin,” the King was saying, his voice hushed and low. “Don’t be afraid, please. I would never call you here to harm you. I could never harm you.”

Merdiin numbly allowed the King to scrape her off the floor and tuck her into a seat on the couch, wrapping a blanket around her barely-clothed form. He spoke soft nothings into her ear and petted her curls.

“Sweet Merdiin...” he was whispering, “let things be as they were. My bed is so empty without you.”

“You shouldn’t have a wretched thing like me,” Merdiin disagreed sadly, tears welling in her eyes as she prepared to tell the King of the shameful mongrel she was. “I’m not even your kind.”

The King pulled her even closer to himself, so their bodies were flush together. He was so very warm. “I have told you, Merdiin, your place is in my bed. You belong here with me, no matter what kind you come from.”

She shook her head. “I have no kind,” she said with quiet tears. “I was never meant to be. My father was taken away for making me. You should not sully yourself by being with the creature that I am.”

The King disagreed again, nuzzling her curls. “Whatever circumstances created a beautiful thing like you cannot be a mistake. No, Merdiin, you were given me by the gods and I will not squander their gift. I will teach you to see your beauty.”

Merdiin had not the energy to argue, and as much as she felt she must tell him how lowly and undeserving she was to even look him in the eye, the little devil on her shoulder urged her to be selfish with the King’s desire. “Please,” she whispered, shoving that voice down and away, “there are those far more deserving than I.”

“Can’t you see there is no other for me? I am more than capable of taking my pick of women in my kingdom, or beyond, even. You are the one I choose. Please, Merdiin, I care for you. Does my desire prove nothing?”

She curled into his broad chest even though she didn’t belong there and tried to shut out the thoughts instilled in her from infancy. So many hurtful words and cruel jokes that were burned into her mind swirled between her ears.

“Darling, please, I can feel you crying. I didn’t bring you here for any confrontation. I want to make love to you.”

There was nothing she wanted more than to feel him inside her again, smooth and sensual and vigorously passionate in his claiming of every inch of her body. Merdiin sniffled and nodded. He patted dry her face with a handkerchief and kissed the bridge of her nose, gentle even as he pulled free the laces of her nightgown and slid it down her arms, baring her breasts for his viewing.

“Sweet Merdiin... I will have you tonight and forever. I long to penetrate your heat again.” He kissed her neck, her collarbone, her nipple. “Please, Merdiin,” he mumbled, suckling her for a moment. “Bare your sweet cunt to me. I want to taste you, split you, fill you up with my seed. There are none more beautiful than you, and I will have every bit of you.”

Merdiin slipped out of her nightgown and climbed into the King’s arms. He carried her almost effortlessly to his bed and draped her across it, folding her legs over his shoulders and delving his tongue inside her.

She nearly cried again, but for the opposite reason. He loved her. Fuck, he loved her. He was a stupid, stupid fool to be in love with a mutt like her. But gods she loved him for it.

His tongue was deft and clever, practised in this art, so much so that Merdiin couldn’t help but express her delight with a spritzing of wet across his face.

“Sorry,” she whimpered, hiding her face, but he scoffed aloud.

“What else did you think my goal was? Stupid girl.” He inserted two fingers and began again, lips and tongue capturing her swollen bud while his digits crooked to her spot and started a relentless pace. She shrieked a little and her hips jittered; a strong, steady hand held her waist down. His Majesty would maintain his authority over her. She was his plaything, as was only proper for a girl of a caste as low as hers.

Again Merdiin screamed and cummed hard, this time caught by the King’s quick tongue, lapping up her release and suckling her vulva to tease more.

“Please—“she began, but he shushed her, continuing his pleasurable torture as long as he cared to. He would do as he very well pleased with her body, him being so far above her, and Merdiin would comply gladly for the privilege of sharing his bed.

He pressed wet, open kisses along her parts, dipping into every crevice and licking the silken hair of her lips. He traced the trail of white fuzz up to her navel, then kissed his way up her belly and ribs. Merdiin moaned quietly when he pressed closer, and she felt the bulge of his trousers resting heavily against her spread thighs. She had waited too long to feel him enter her again, to feel the sticky white warmth of his cum pour into her womb, into her bottom, into her mouth.

“You belong here, Merdiin,” the King said quietly, but his tone broached no argument. “Stay here with me and be mine.”

“Yes.”

The King kissed her knee where it was outstretched over his shoulder. “I will have you every day and night; I will use your beautiful body to bring us pleasure in every way imaginable.”

Merdiin nodded frantically. “Yes, please, yes.”

“Lovely thing.” His Majesty slid down to lie flush over her belly, Merdiin’s legs coming to wrap around his waist, his bulge pressing hot against her. He gave a wolfish smile and kissed her deeply. “I will have you with child this night,” he said lowly, “and I will have you as my concubine by tomorrow evening.”


End file.
